Raindrops keep falling on my head…

What a day.  What a day.  What a day.

It started so nice.

We slept late.

Adam got up and made coffee.

I slept till it was finished.

I got up.

We planted ourselves on the couch to watch CBS Sunday Morning News.  This has become one of our favorite things to do.  We actually started doing it because Adam watched with his father while he was home for his grandfather’s funeral.  The story’s are always heart warming and sweet.  In one story today that discussed kid’s that stutter and a theater camp that who’s goal is to help them with their stuttering.  The camp is called Our Time and a good friend of ours sends her son to the camp.

I digress.

We watch TV.

We drink coffee.

We watch TV.

Then.

As per our plan we get up and start prepping to take down our Christmas tree.  We’d agreed to do it last weekend.  While we were sitting on the couch Adam devised the plan for the day.  We’d do some general straightening up.  Then we’d take everything out of the trunk that serves as our coffee table.  (These things are the tchotchkes we have that have been displaced by Christmas.  During the rest of the year the trunk serves as storage for Xmas.)  Once everything is out of the trunk, we’ll pull out all of the boxes for things in the apartment that stay in the apartment.  (Most of it goes to storage).   And THEN, we’ll go to our storage facility to get the bins that 99% of our Xmas decorations go in.   And THEN we’ll actually start taking down the tree.

So we do everything above.

In the course of our doing things he noticed that the paint on the wall of the foyer was getting worse.  The leak from the upstairs apartment has been back and gradually we are getting that running paint, peeling off the wall thing.  So he looked closer and the wall was wet.  FUCK.  IT’S REALLY BACK AGAIN.  FUCK.  FUCK.  FUCK.

What can you do.

So.

We go get the storage bins.  And we get them in the apartment.

And I don’t remember why Adam went to the closet but he did.  And he reached up to get something on the left hand side and he was bitten by a snake.

Psyche.

Actually he discovered that the ceiling in the closet was leaking.  Not just wet but was actively leaking.

And not a drip.  drip.

But a dripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdrip.

Hmmm.

He of course curses at this point so I join him at the closet.  And we realize that not only is it leaking, the entire wall on the said of the closet is soaked.  Along with four of his coats.  Our tool box.  And sundry other items.

We move everything.

He calls the super.

Our super, Victor, is hispanic.  I don’t know what kind of hispanic.  But he’s hispanic.  He talks with a very thick accent.  And he LOVES to talk.  And he has a theory about everything.  So of course he has a theory about the water.  It involves the lady upstairs and her bathroom and the tub and the this and the that.  We just wanted him to shut up and fix the problem.  He’s made excuses what could we do.

So Adam call the manager of the building.  He never answers.  Especially on Sundays.  Adam leaves a very nice message telling him that Victor the super is on it, but there is a leak in our closet.

We now do what we always do.  We ignore it and hope that it goes a way.  It never does.  But we hope it does.

By this time we are annoyed.  Adam is pissed.  I suggest that we put off taking the tree down and just watch TV.

I’m very glad we did.

Adam had to do laundry and so he pulled all the clothes out.  Separated them.  Piled them in the basket.  Pulled quarters out of the drawer and headed downstairs.

It didn’t take him long to come back.  Seems Victor was finally paying attention.  Victor has a man cave in the basement.  It’s storage room that has a pool table, fridge, TV etc. in it.  So while Adam was downstairs putting the laundry in, Victor came in to go to his man cave.  And when he opened the door, water was pouring out of the ceiling.

It’s funny how people change their views when it affects (effects?  I used to know this and now I just feel stupid) them personally.

So Adam has come in and is telling me this.

I respond by going to poop.  (Everyone does it.  Shut up.)

So I go in and sit down.  I realize the floor is wet.  This usually happens when the tub backs up.  This is a whole different problem that happens two or three times a week.  Then I realize that water is splashing me.  And then I realize that it’s splashing me because it’s leaking out of the ceiling, hitting the tub and then spraying everywhere.

I finish my business.

And then I call Adam in to tell him what’s going on.

Don’t worry I sprayed the spray so it smelled like “a smokey fireside.”

Actually not only is it leaking in our bathroom but plaster and paint have peeled away from the ceiling and are bubbling.

We go back out into the foyer and realize now that the leaking in the actual foyer is worse because now there is a huge bubble (I wish I’d taken a picture) where the water is building up between the paint and the plaster.  When I say huge it was probably a foot wide by five or six inches tall.  It was a pimple waiting to explode.

We call Victor again.  He’s still useless.

At this point we are at our wits end.  Adam is really at his wits end.  All I can do is be supportive.  It really is out of our control.  We finally calm down and order dinner and he continues with the laundry.

Dinner arrives and the guy from 4G knocks on our door.  He knows Adam and wants to talk.  Seems the leak is in the whole pile of “G” apartments from the sixth floor down.  The problem is that no one is home in 6G.  AND.  She’s old.  And her husband just died.  And Adam’s friend is convinced she died in the shower and the water is running.  We listen.  He talks.  I talk.  He turns his back to Adam and Adam gives the signal to shut him up and get him out.  So I help and he’s out the door.

All this water makes me have to pee.

So I pee.  And I flush the toilet.  Or at least I try and flush the toilet.  We find out very soon that Victor’s answer to the problem was to turn off the water lines that feed ALL the “G” apartments.

In the mean time it’s all getting worse.  It’s now raining in the bathroom.  The foyer closet is raining.  And then of course, because we think “IT CAN’T GET ANY WORSE.”  It starts to rain in the actual foyer.

So Adam moves everything off the “fireplace” cabinet.

At this point.  Dinner is over and I’m on my way to meet my friend Russ, who I know from Lexington.  That’s an interesting story for later in the week.  So I’m putting my coat on, and Adam is trying to mop up the mess in the foyer.  I keep asking if he’s sure it’s okay for me to go and he assures me that it is.  So reluctantly I put on my coat and leave.

I got home a couple of hours ago.

The rain has stopped.

The balloon in the foyer finally broke.  Luckily it released it’s water through a tiny pin hole so it didn’t go everywhere like we were afraid that it would.

The ceiling above the bathtub where it was leaking has fallen and is now in the tub.  There are wet towels all over the bathroom floor where Adam has tried to contain the flow of water.  He’s cleared out the foyer closet.  The wall in the foyer is empty.

And there is still no water.

And we have NO IDEA how it’s going to be fixed.  When it’s going to be fixed.  And how long we’ll be without water.  It’s NYC it could be off for months before anything would happen.

Here’s my prediction for tomorrow.  I’ll get up early (It’s late now) so that I’ll be up if they ring the buzzer and need to get in.  They won’t ring the buzzer

Until.

3:00 p.m.

I have to leave for work at 3:00 p.m.

This happens every time.  And every time they get mad at me because I tell them NO they can’t come into the apartment.  No they can fix something.  I’m on my way out the door they had all day.  Come back tomorrow.

This is what’s going to happen tomorrow.

All I know is that Adam’s going to be miserable at work, especially for his co-workers, if he doesn’t get to shower in the morning.  Let’s hope for Victor’s sake the shower is working.

It’s now late.  I’m not proofing so please forgive any spelling, there, their, or they’re mistakes.  And for god’s sake someone tell me whether it’s affect.  Or effect.

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5 thoughts on “Raindrops keep falling on my head…

  1. Lemuel January 31, 2011 / 06:41

    Affect*, in this case, my friend.
    And, lordy! what a mess! I hope everything gets resolved and fixed in express time for you two!

    (a general rule of thumb that I use for affect/effect is two-fold. One, affect is generally used as a verb [the change affects me] and effect is generally used as a noun [the effect of the change on me is good]. Two, when both are used as verbs, affect usually indicates some outside force acting on something [again, the change affects me] but effect usually indicates that something [you?] is trying to cause something to happy to another thing [I effect the change]. hope this helps [more than Victor does 😉 ].)

  2. Lemuel January 31, 2011 / 06:43

    “happen” not “happy”. lordy, teach me to type! 🙂

  3. Java January 31, 2011 / 06:46

    Affect. You were right. Something affects that. These have an effect on those. It’s about the parts of speech.

    That’s a horror story. Can Victor not get into 6G? Call the paramedics and break in if he must. I can see this poor old lady’s body bloating in the running water. Please report back on the cause of this flood and whether Mrs. 6G is alive or dead.

  4. Karen January 31, 2011 / 16:47

    O my goodness what a mess. Water damage is a mess. And no running water is a mess.
    And By the Way, I don’t go ANYWHERE on Sundays until CBS Sunday morning is over. Love that show.

  5. Sarah January 31, 2011 / 23:28

    I have been waiting all day to hear an update on the leak/flood.

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